In the Night
by magdelena
Summary: Who in their right mind sends an owl out at such an hour of the night?
1. In the Night

A/N: I guess this is how all great fan fic writers begin their stories...They always say stuff like 'Oh, this is my first fic and I'm sure it's awful, but please r/r!' Well, this isn't my first fic...it's my second and I'm sure it's awful, but please r/r.   
  
Creds and Acks: Which, of course, means 'Credits and Acknowledgements,' duh. We'll have to start with the oh-so-goddessly J.K. Rowling for creating and owning each and every Harry Potter character (including Ron Weasley, which I envy her so greatly for). Also, to my fellow Sidekicks and Lobsters for loving the R/H and R, respectively. Of course, I have to thank my beta-er (beater), Del, who is my urging force behind keeping this fic updated.   
  
Disclaimer: Sorry, no cool little acronym or abbreviation for that one. Once again, I have to begin with J.K. Rowling for creating and owning each and every Harry Potter character (and far more money than I could ever imagine *hint*hint*: don't sue). I think that's all. Happy reading!  
  
In the Night  
  
A quite large, spindly body slunk its way down the thin hall. Past one bedroom, two, three, four...safe at the stairs it paused for a breath of relief. A loud snore emanated from the nearest bedroom. The body tensed and stiffened as it waited for reassurance that no one was awake. A second identical snore echoed it's forerunner. Snore. Snore. Snore. Snore. Snore. Snore.   
  
A welcomed silence returned as two identical coughs sounded through the dark.  
Right foot positioned above the top stair, an ear reached out for any sounds of movement. The right foot gingerly tested the top stair for any creaks and groans before lowering down onto the uncarpeted wood. The left foot followed and the right again in a quick succession of footsteps down the rickety old spiral staircase.  
  
Again, a pause was taken once the shadow had reached the kitchen door. No sounds. Across the old, warped wood floor, around the table set for nine (mostly only seven sat for dinner, sometimes six, except during the school year when there was a lonely two), past an old muggle radio with the antennae pulled in every which way and several knobs lost, and finally to the set of cages beside the sill of the largest window in the whole house.  
  
"Whoooo..." A drowsy owl greeted his late-night visitor. "Whoooooooo..." A little louder this time. A second owl, awakened by the first, took the chance to stretch his wings, beating them down with a loud thwoop, twhoop.  
  
"No time for talk, Pig. Could you please, Errol? We can't wake anyone up." Both birds seemed to understand.  
  
An unsteady hand lifted the tiny latch and let the door swing open. The tiny owl bounced across his perch, the swinging cage creaked with age. The same hand thrust in through the tiny door and snatched up the smaller owl with practiced ease and care (so as not to create a scene with the hyperactive bird) and sat him upon the sill.   
  
Bent down, face to face to Pig, Ron Weasley removed a quite lengthy parchment which had been tucked in the waist of his pyjamas. He fixed the letter to the frail little leg of his bird, securing it twice just in case.   
  
"We can't let this get lost..." Ron nodded, lifting Pig and replacing him on the palm of his hand. He stood and pushed the window open, raising Pig so he could look into the bird's beady little eyes. They seemed to be avoiding him.   
  
"Look at me, Pig." Ron commanded. The owl extended its jaw in what could have been a yawn. Ron laughed quietly. "I know it's late, I just promised I would reply to Hermione by tomorrow morning." He said, his face again serious. He lifted his palm toward the open window and felt the push-off as Pig took an unsteady flight, his right side drastically lower than his left under the weight of the letter.   
  
*****  
  
Upstairs, Mrs. Weasley rolled over in her bed. After bringing up Gred and Forge, a mother was aware of every slightest creak in the night. She glanced at the illuminated wizarding clock on her bedstand. Fred's on 'bedroom floor', George's hand was on 'bed', she could reach over and touch Arthur, she needn't worry about Percy, but Ron's hand was pointing to something else. 'Up to no good by the owl cages.' Molly read off the clock's face. She slid herself out of bed and down to the foot of the stairs, stopping at the kitchen. Through the dark she could see her youngest son holding his owl up closely to his face and heard a quiet laugh.  
  
"I know it's late," Molly glanced at the muggle clock, three-twenty-seven, "I just promised I would reply to Hermione by tomorrow morning." Her stomach flopped as Ron sent his owl out into the night. 'At this hour in the morning?' She smiled, remembering all the late-night letters she had received from Arthur during their school days. Molly slowly turned and made her way back into her warm bed, snuggling closely to her husband (who replied with a gruff "Geroff..." like father, like son...). Molly smiled as she drifted off to sleep.  
  
*****  
  
Ron kept watching Pig for a few moments to make sure the letter wasn't going to anchor him down. Once he was only a tiny black speck in the moonlit night, Ron turned and started back across the kitchen.   
  
Past the muggle radio with the missing knobs, around the table set for nine (but used to a lonely two), and across the old, warped wood floor the bare feed trod in silence. Shaded by darkness, the body stood poised to listen for any sounds. None. After testing the lowest step, the pair of feet carried their owner to the top of the staircase, down the hall, one, two, three, four doors down and on the right, and into a warm bed.  
  
A heavy sigh escaped from two lips, on a calmed face, on a tired body. 'I made it...' He thought, pulling the covers around him. 'I sent the letter to Hermione and no one will ever find out.' 


	2. Of Course

Hermione awoke to a very distinct **THWOMP**. 

__

'Not that there is such thing as a 'thwomp.' She thought intelligently as she looked toward the noise. Her window, which was mostly shut, was empty and she could see clear across to the neighbour's living room window. _'Oh, Mr. Harris...wearing spandex at such an hour could do horrors for your circulation...not to mention my innocence.'_ Hermione's eyes bulged and she looked away quickly. 

Another **thwomp**. Not quite as loud this time, but still coming from the window. Hermione lifted it open and peered over the edge cautiously. A very small, tawny object was headed straight for her face. She yanked herself back inside (narrowly missing the window with her head) and stumbled backward as it soared past her and crash-landed on her unmade bed. The owl's chest was rising quickly, it's entire body rocking back and forth, as it recovered from it's journey. 

"Oh, Pigwidgeon..." Hermione shook her head. She couldn't help but smile. Quickly, she took her place beside the bird and removed the _strangely large..._parchment from his little leg and pulled it open.

__

Dear Hermione

Sorry the reply took so long. I didn't get your owl until around eight last night and it took me a while to get to a reply. Fred and George are driving me nutters over this whole sending owls to a girl thing (like Angelina doesn't get one every other hour...). 

'Was he comparing his letters to me to Fred's letters to Angelina?' Hermione thought frantically. 

__

I was hoping that you could meet me in Diagon Alley on the twenty-second of August. Harry will be there, too, of course.

__

'Of course...'

I also just was wondering if you (and Harry, of course) would like to spend that last week before school at the Leaky Cauldron. Just so we could finish up any school work we haven't finished (not that I'm saying you haven't finished...not that I'm saying you are a shut-in who does all her homework over the summer instead of going outside and...I'm finished before I get myself in trouble). I just thought that , you know, it would be nice if we could all spend some time together. Maybe we could go to a real muggle store and maybe to a muggle restaurant for a nice dinner (without Harry, of course). 

__

'Without Harry, of course...' Hermione thought, not quite getting the point.

It's getting kind of late now. If I want Pig to get this to you before we're in year 7 I should probably send him off. 

Ron

Hermione laid the letter beside her and flopped backward onto her bed. _'What does he mean by saying all that 'of course' stuff in relation to Harry being present?' _She picked up the letter again to reread bits and pieces. 

"Would it be so awful if we spent time together **alone**, Ron Weasley?" She asked aloud. Pigwidgeon 'whooo'ed softly and fluffed his feathers. 

"Maybe we could go to a real muggle store and maybe to a muggle restaurant for a nice dinner (without Harry, of course)." Hermione nearly spat out the words, only then noticing..."Maybe we could go to a real muggle store and maybe to a muggle restaurant for a nice dinner (without Harry, of course)." She read again, slower. _'Without Harry?'_ A smile slowly formed on her face as she flew off the bed and tore through her desk for a black parchment and a quill.

Dear Ron,

I would be delighted to be at Diagon Alley on the twenty-second of August. It would also be very nice for the three of us to spend some time at the Leaky Cauldron. I still have a bit of work to do for Arithmancy. It was quite hard. It involves a very tricky formula to develop a basic arithmetic operations to determine a very complicated dribble that Professor Vector outlined in the last week of classes. You wouldn't understand, of course, because you were taking that waste of brain matter elective on Divination with that lunatic Trelawney. And, of course, Harry and I would love to show you around muggle-London and perhaps it would be nice if we did have a nice dinner at a muggle restaurant.

Hermione

She held the letter at an arm's length and reread her words. Hermione bit her lip. '_Not quite what I wanted to say...'_ She dipped her quill in the inkpot and added:

PS- Without Harry, of course.


	3. Think Before You Speak

"Blonde, eleven o'clock." George Weasley nudged Fred, his twin, who in turn nudged their younger brother, Ron. "Sixth year Hufflepuff."  
"There you go, mate. Its about time you'd learn to impress the ladies." Fred wiggled an eyebrow and shoved George into the crowd toward the Hufflepuff. "Show 'im, you handsome lady-killer, you." George couldn't seem to get his legs to move in the right direction and ended up back in his chair outside Ona Onstanstaught's Café.  
Ron sighed. Over the summer, his two elder brothers had taken it upon themselves to try and match up Ron and his best friend, Harry Potter. So far, they'd succeeded in turning three girls into canaries (which they thought was quite the laugh and would 'lighten the mood.') and had gotten Harry and Ron their first public screaming at by a lady other than their mother or wicked aunt. "Can't you give it a rest?" He moaned as they nearly shoved Harry off his seat while pointing out a very attractive witch.  
Harry couldn't help but laugh at the whole predicament. Both Fred and George knew that he was particularly interested in Cho Chang. "Come on, Ron, lighten up." Ron scowled at him.  
"Since when do you join up with this lot?" Ron shoved his chair back and stood up. "I'm going to meet Hermione." He growled, shoving through the crowd toward Flourish and Blotts, Diagon Alley's wizard bookshop. Hermione should be waiting for him already.   
He continued his was through the ebbing crowd of Flourish and Blotts customers finally making it through the double doors. Several third-year students Ron recognized from Hogwarts were bouncing up and down, reaching into the air. Ron raised his eyes to a flock of books, which were definitely flying. 'Not too big a surprise.' He read the poster on the table below them. "International Regulations for Intermediate Flying Study-books." Ron muttered as he made his way toward an empty shelf and turned around to search the crowd for Hermione. Leaning backward, he startled as his elbow rested on something soft.   
"Check out the brunette looking out the window."  
Ron closed his eyes tightly, his jaw stiffening as he turned to face Lee Jordan, Fred and George's right-hand man. "Sod off, will you?" He said through clenched teeth. The brunette near the window did have quite nice hair. Good body...Ron shook his head. "She's got amazing hair..." He rolled his eyes and started to look for Hermione again. The witch's hair was about the shade of Hermione's, but only half as bushy. Not that Hermione's...  
"Are you kidding me?" Lee's voice sounded flabbergasted. "You've got to be joking..." Ron looked back up at the brunette, his breath catching in his throat. "Damn...Hermione Granger...I know who I'm taking to the Yule Ball."  
Ron pushed himself from the bookshelf and took a cautious step toward Hermione, who was now pushing her way through the crowd with a huge smile on her face. "Keep your pants on Jordan." His voice came out in a hoarse rumble.  
"Hermione," Ron gulped, trying to think of something more to say. Before he could get another word out she'd flung her arms around his neck and face was pressed into her newly smoothened hair. "Hermione?" He could hear Lee Jordan snicker as he walked away from them.  
Hermione released her startled friend and shifted her sack of books onto her other shoulder. "Hello, Ron." She waited for a reply.  
"What happened to your hair?"  
Hermione's jaw dropped to the floor. "Wha-what happened...WHAT HAPPENED TO MY HAIR?" She stuttered in disbelief. "Is that all you have to say after a whole summer of being away from your best friend? After all the arguments we went through during the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" Her eyes were brimming with tears and her jaw was wobbling uncontrollably. At least Ron could show a little compassion...or heck, even compliment her. "I thought it looked nice." She choked. "I thought...I thought that you, Ron Weasley, would remember that, in fact, I, Hermione Granger, am still a girl and actually care about how I look, contrary to popular belief!"   
Ron, on the other hand, was just as surprised as she was. He felt paralysed. 'I can't move my mouth. I can't move my legs to run.' He thought in a panic. 'I think this is a record, Ronald. Two minutes with Hermione and you've already begun the first row of the year...' Ron could feel himself bite his lip in thought. Bad move.  
"Don't you have anything to say?" Hermione's knitted brow was nothing compared to her eyes, which seemed to be shooting daggers. Ron nodded. "Well, spit it out! Honestly, Ron! I don't know why you insist on not thinking before you speak."  
Ron glanced to the floor, his mind flooded with different approaches to the inevitable apology. "It makes your face look better." He winced. It makes your face look better...  
Hermione's eyes bulged as she spun on one heel, shoving through the crowd as she made her way toward the door. 'I guess I can forget dinner without Harry, of course.' Ron bit his lip.  
"Miss...Miss! You need to pay for those!"   
Hermione was already gone. Ron shoved after her, shoving his only galleon into the palm of the Flourish and Blotts employee. 


End file.
